


Second skin

by Spectral_Mist, Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Series: The order of things [1]
Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989)
Genre: First Time, Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21645058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectral_Mist/pseuds/Spectral_Mist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Peter has gotten himself into another fine mess, but this time he drags Egon along for the ride.
Relationships: Egon Spengler/Peter Venkman
Series: The order of things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567762
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	Second skin

**Author's Note:**

> I had this lying around for a bit and decided to finish it. 
> 
> **I have added my alternate user ID Asthenos to this fanfic while I debate over whether or not I will merge the two accounts**

“Hey Egon, what’cha working on?” Peter strolled on into the Ghostbusters’ resident genius’ laboratory, as if it was completely normal for him to be interested in what Egon got up to during his spare time. Peter had a talent for making people believe in things and situations that didn’t exist. All he had to do was act all nonchalant, pretending that the other person was the one missing vital brain functions. With Peter’s cocksure attitude and bizarre tendency to warp his environment for his own purposes, he had a habit of getting away with just about anything. Once, he had even convinced the bomb squad that Walter Peck was a terrorist wanted by Interpol. Unfortunately he hadn’t been on site to witness the fruits of his labor, but hearing about it afterwards was sweet enough.

“I assure you that whatever you’ve misplaced is not in here, Venkman,” Egon responded without so much as a flinch.

Okay, so maybe Egon was impervious to Peter’s heightened skills of manipulation. Even Superman had his kryptonite, and Egon was the equivalent of that and then some.

“I’m bored, so sue me,” Peter confessed with a shrug. A shrug that Egon did not notice because the physicist was concentrating on the proton pack that he was fiddling with. Or at least it used to be a proton pack. Now it was nothing more than a neatly organized assembly of parts, scattered all over the work table like a complicated firearm that had been taken apart for cleaning. Trust Egon to feel the need to occasionally break his high-tech toys. “Did a roach get inside or something?” Peter asked just for the sake of saying something because Egon was not particularly good at carrying on a continuous conversation.

Egon turned around and gave Peter a bewildered look that said, ‘Did you actually say what I think you just said?’ Then, perhaps remembering who Peter was and how no one took him seriously, Egon returned to his Lego project. But he did deign to answer the question, which Peter took as a sign of progress. “It is virtually impossible for a cockroach to penetrate the outer casing of the proton pack... at least not the roaches that inhabit New York.”

“That’s good to know.” Not that Peter would lose much sleep worrying about the proton packs becoming infested with roaches. There was more of a concern over the used furniture they had acquired harboring an army of bed bugs. But if the tattered couch or scratched up antique cupboard was loaded with multi-legged invaders, then that was Ray’s problem. He was the one collecting furniture from the neighborhood boulevard after all.

Giving up on trying to guess what Egon was doing to the proton pack - and why - Peter decided to snoop around the lab. Earlier on in the day, he had already been chased out of the automotive repair area by Winston, evaded by a very secretive Ray, and screamed at for accidentally looking up Janine’s skirt while crouched down on the floor to tie his laces. Without a date or something interesting to watch on TV, the only thing Peter had to occupy his time with was Egon. And Egon was...

 _Hello. Now this is nice._ Really nice in fact. Egon was bending over the work table, stretching his hand for the screwdriver that was just out of his reach. The slim physicist was wearing his lab coat, but it had drifted off to one side, so Peter was treated to the sight of his friend’s slacks molding to his ass. And what an ass it was! Egon had a cute ass - small, tight, and inviting Peter to put his hands all over—.

“Peter, would you be so kind as to make yourself useful and pass me the screwdriver?”

 _I’d like to screw something alright_. Muttering unintelligibly to himself, Peter sulked over to the other side of the table to retrieve the tool. Sometimes he felt like a tool himself, or a Labrador, being sent to fetch things for his master. Nobody trusted him with anything important.

Peter dutifully handed Egon the screwdriver. Then, as inconspicuously as possible, he dropped his hand to the crotch of his pants to scratch at himself.

Unfortunately, Egon missed nothing. Oh sure, the super intelligent physicist could block out stimuli that disrupted his work environment, but only if he chose to do so.

Temporarily lowering the screwdriver, Egon peered over at Peter from across the work table, his eyeglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he did so. “Peter, did you just...?”

“What?” Peter tried to sound all innocent, but it was difficult to actually _look_ innocent when he was shuffling from foot to foot, struggling with the urge to scratch again. He couldn’t help it. He was itchy as hell and scratching it just made it worse. There was only one way to make the itching go away, and that was to ask Egon for help. That was why he had forced himself to enter the lab in the first place.

“I believe that you just blatantly scratched your genitalia,” Egon pointed out, but not without the faintest twinge of discomfort in his voice.

“Genitalia, Spengs? Seriously? I scratched my dick, okay? Because it’s itchy as hell.”

Suddenly, Egon’s normally schooled features darkened with a mixture of concern and disbelief. “Peter, did you fail to use the proper protection during your brief rekindled intimacy with Dana?”

Trust Egon to know the symptoms of genital herpes, without knowing anything about the sexual act that caused it. “Oh, no, I covered up Petey Junior all good and proper with Trojan’s finest Magnum Ribbed condom - only the best for my extra _large_ package.” Watching Egon turn five shades darker, his cheeks positively glowing pink with embarrassment, was well worth revealing Peter’s preferred condom of choice. “All joking aside, what actually happened is that I got into the mood slime.I mean, I heard how you’d slept with it, and if you enjoyed sticking _your_ dick into the pink goo, how bad could it be? So I lathered some on myself - and fuck did it ever feel _good_ \- but it got all stiff after I was done jerking off. I tried washing it off but couldn’t get rid of the stuff. And now it’s dry and itchy.” Peter rounded the table and began to unbuckle his belt.

“W—what are you doing?” Egon asked unsteadily. He looked and sounded frightened, although his gaze was no longer fixated on Peter’s face.

“Maybe you have a better connection with the mood slime. You should try wiping it off me.”

“Have you lost your perverted mind?” Egon backed away and lowered his gaze to the floor between them. “Yes, I slept with the mood slime. The active word being ‘slept’. I would never consider allowing it to have direct physical contact with such a sensitive area of my body.”

Peter’s jaw dropped open in shock. “You didn’t masturbate with the slime?”

“No, Peter, I did not,” Egon retorted woodenly. “I merely kept it by my pillow, in a glass jar, to monitor its reaction to my emotional state during a few REM cycles.”

“But the look Ray gave you...,” Peter protested.

“Ray gives me that look whenever I do something embarrassing. At least, sleeping with a foreign alien substance seemed embarrassing at the time..., but that was before you introduced it to your genitalia.”

“My dick, Egon. C’mon, you can say it.” While Peter was genuinely worried about permanent damage being done to his most valuable asset, he was also intrigued with Egon’s reaction. While naturally uncomfortable around the subject of sexual deviancy, those intellectual brown eyes were lingering an awfully long time on the location of Peter’s private parts. And the look in those eyes was one of intrigue, not disgust. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! I’m just gonna drop my pants and let you take a look at it. Better you than Ray. I think that he might have a thing for me.” Peter grinned like a shark as he unzipped his slacks and dropped them before Egon could say another word. He slid down his boxers next, until he was revealed in all of his Venkman glory - pink, slime-encased cock and all.

“This is... incredible,” Egon said in a breathless voice. His expression was wavering between emotional overload and scientific curiosity, but his gaze just locked onto Peter’s proudly erect member with quite a bit of interest.

“Forget the PKE meter,” Peter snapped when Egon began to reach for it. “Just come here and tell me if this stuff is in a dormant state, or if it can be reactivated.” When Egon instinctively retreated, Peter lunged forward, grabbed the physicist by the wrist, and yanked him closer again. “That’s it. No need to be shy. This is all for the sake of getting a better grip on science.” Peter lowered Egon’s hand to the base of his cock, and coaxed the physicist’s hand into gripping him. “See how hard this shit is? I’m usually long-lasting but this is ridiculous!”

Egon tugged at his hand, trying to extricate it from Peter’s manhood, but could not do so for two reasons. One was that Peter was much stronger than him. And two... Egon found that the instant his hand made contact, his fingers became stuck in the slime. “ _What_ did you do to put the slime in this state, Venkman?” Egon demanded to know with poorly concealed perturbation. “When not in a thick viscous form, the slime does solidify - to a point - but it has never exhibited the characteristics of a strong adhesive.” Again, Egon tried to free his hand, and again his fingers latched on even tighter.

“Oh, _baby_ , do that again,” Peter groaned enthusiastically.

“Peter, concentrate!”

“Fine. I may have had a few orgasms too many while covered in this stuff. Maybe I overloaded its circuits or scrambled its amoeba brains?”

“Then the problem could be that your lascivious behavior has altered its molecular structure. Perhaps if you were to subdue all functions in your amygdala, the slime might revert back to its previous state.”

“My what?” Peter wrapped his free arm around Egon’s waist and aggressively pulled him in even closer. “I have a better idea. Why don’t I teach you how to give a proper handjob? I’m sure that’ll get this slime oozing again.”

Amazingly, Egon blushed even redder and began to fidget. Which meant that Peter was really getting under his skin because Egon was usually so good at keeping the fidgeting under control.

“What makes you think that I don’t know how to give a handjob?” Egon asked indignantly.

Sometimes messing with Egon was just too easy. “So you’re admitting that you’ve given a guy a handjob before?”

“No, I didn’t say —.”

“Then you’ve thought about it?”

“Even if I had—.”

“Has anyone ever given you one? Cuz I’d _love_ to put my hands on you,” Peter drawled. At that, he felt a mild squeeze on Petey Junior that definitely wasn’t a nervous reaction. “Have you ever fantasized about me, Spengs? I’m sure you must have. I mean, we’re so close we practically sleep in the same bed.” That was partially true. Their sleeping quarters were so cramped that all Peter would need to do was stretch his arm in order to touch Egon in the neighboring bed. “You’ve seen what I have to offer. And I’ve seen you bent over more times than I have the sanity to resist.” Peter gave a pleased sigh and closed his eyes when Egon tentatively stroked him.

“What about Dana?” Egon stopped after the one stroke.

Peter’s eyes shot open again to glare at Egon for stopping. But the innocent look of fear on the physicist’s face held his annoyance in check. “There is no Dana - only Egon,” he chanted with a smirk. Dana had said something similar while she’d been possessed by a terror dog. ‘ _There is no Dana - only Zuul._ ’ That phrase had really stuck with him over the years. It became like a kind of Christmas jingle - easy to remember and fun to say.

“And after the slime has been removed?”

Peter gave Egon his most endearing, seductive smile. “I may get around, but I have been known to stick with the same person as well. _If_ they entertain me and put out.” Reaching out to tenderly caress Egon’s cheek with one hand, Peter manipulated Egon’s hand on his cock with the other. “Are you willing to put out for me, Egon?”

“Here? Now?” Egon couldn’t have appeared anymore flustered if he tried.

“Winston is at that car show in Pittsburgh, Janine left early, and Ray won’t be back from that shitty bookstore of his until late. What do you say, Egon? Wanna let me pop your cherry?” Not waiting for a response, Peter leaned into Egon’s personal space to plant a wet kiss on the physicist’s parted lips. And, while he was at it, he grabbed Egon by his thick brown hair, holding him still, and thrust his tongue inside. It wasn’t Peter’s fault that the slime was making him super horny. He had lost all his inhibitions - as if he ever had any - the moment he’d dropped his pants.

Egon practically melted into the kiss, docilely allowing Peter to do as he wished with his tongue. And Peter did. He traced the tip of his tongue along Egon’s lips, licking at him, before plunging his tongue back in. Peter recognized the sweet flavor he was plundering. How could he not? Egon tasted like those Crunch bars that Peter was so fond of rewarding him with. What was not to like about Crunch bars?

“Aww, yeah. Keep that up. You’re doing great.” Peter praised Egon between kisses, really enjoying the feel of the physicist’s hand on him. What was even better was that the slime had become somewhat liquid again. It made for a great lubricant, which gave Peter an idea. As Egon was really getting into the rhythm, of both the kissing and the stroking, Peter began to undress the introverted scientist. Although he couldn’t get Egon’s white lab coat or shirt off due to the fact that Egon’s hand was still stuck to Peter’s dick, Peter had no trouble unbuttoning the shirt, or undoing Egon’s slacks.

“I think my hand is coming loose,” Egon said breathlessly. But it didn’t look like he had any intention of withdrawing his hand. In fact, he began to stroke Peter a bit more firmly, and with a little more speed.

Stifling a moan against Egon’s neck, Peter inched his way up to Egon’s ear with light kisses. “Oh, you’re good, Egon,” he chuckled softly. “Always were the teacher’s pet, weren’t you?” He breathed hotly into Egon’s ear, listening to the shattering moan that escaped the physicist. “Repressed much?”

“Is this what... it’s always like... with you?” Egon panted, his words cut off by a throatier moan when Peter wetly licked inside his ear.

“Like what?” Peter murmured.

“Nonstop... verbal interaction.”

“Of course not.” Having gotten Egon’s slacks out of the way, Peter’s hand crept along Egon’s waist. He pushed the long lab coat out of his way, brushed the back of his hand against the small of Egon’s back, and pushed it down the physicist’s briefs. “I also have my surprises.” One of which was not being subtle. He traced the curve of Egon’s ass with the side of his hand, before he drew a finger slowly - and purposefully - between the cleft. His finger was slick with more of that mood slime, which he used to locate - and then probe - the tight opening to Egon’s body.

“P-Peter... what are you—?” Egon gasped, his grip on Peter painfully tightening for a moment.

“Prepping you. Not to sound cliche, but you’re really fucking tight.” Peter grabbed Egon’s wrist and pulled the physicist’s hand off of him. “You can have another go at this later. Unless I decide to have you suck me off. Now be a good boy and spread your legs for Doctor Venkman.” Clamping his free hand down firmly on Egon’s shoulder, he guided the physicist into leaning over the work table.

“Peter, wait! You can’t just insert mood slime into—.” Egon’s panicked protestations turned into a mild yelp as Peter’s slick finger penetrated him.

“Can’t be helped, Spengs,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “There’s nothing else in here that’ll pass for lube. At least nothing sanitary.” He nudged Egon’s legs further apart with his knee, and nearly forgot to breathe as he sank his finger deeper inside. Egon was the perfect picture of debauchery, lying halfway across the table with his legs spread and his ass in the air, easily accessible for Peter. And the way that man moaned. It might as well have been a deep, sensual purr as far as Peter was concerned. What was even better was that the slime was more slippery than any lubricant Peter had ever messed with. Tight or not, it made the process of exploring Egon smooth and pleasant. “Besides, you’ll be filled with the stuff once I’m done with you,” Peter lewdly promised.

“Peter,” Egon moaned. This time his tone was begging for more, all resistance gone.

“Feels that good, huh?” Peter shoved his other hand down the front of Egon’s briefs, encountering an overeager erection to match his own. He really ought to have just yanked the underwear out of the way, but he had his kinks. He grasped Egon loosely, noticing the way the physicist jerked at the touch. No doubt he was super sensitive from lack of stimulation. It didn’t really matter if Egon lasted long. Peter didn’t need him to hold out in order to enjoy that other thing.

When Egon began to push back onto Peter’s finger, Peter worked a second inside, taking his time stretching his lover. No one had ever accused him of being inconsiderate, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to rush with Egon. No, this time he was going to draw this out for as long as possible. To savor this monumental occasion. Well, mainly to savor Egon, which is what he was doing with the slow torture.

“ _Please_...,” Egon pleaded, clawing at the table with his fingers, the side of his face pressed in tight to its surface. His eyes were tightly shut and his breath was coming in short gasps and moans. He was so far gone with need that he was oblivious to his glasses scraping against the wooden table. Those would no need to be replaced afterwards. But Peter wasn’t too worried about that. He’d had to replace far more expensive things during some of his more recreational bouts of lovemaking.

“What do you want, baby?” Peter teased, knowingly scissoring his fingers inside Egon.

“More... something more.”

“You’ve gotta be more specific than that. What do you want? The screwdriver?” Peter mercilessly ground his erection against Egon’s ass, and taunted him further. “The particle thrower?”

 _“Asshole!”_ Egon growled in frustration.

“Whoa, sunshine. No need for that kind of language. It doesn’t suit you.” After slowly withdrawing his fingers, Peter slid Egon’s briefs down his long legs. Thinking that it would be a shame not to be able to see Egon’s face, Peter turned him around. Then he patted the edge of the work table. “Hop up.” At first, Egon looked uncertain, then, remembering all the good sensations Peter was capable of sharing with him, the physicist hopped up onto the table. Now that Egon was naked from the waist down and on display for him, Peter took his time in admiring him. “Y’know, I would’ve preferred our first time to involve handcuffing you to my bed, but I guess that this’ll have to do for now.”

“Perhaps we can try that... later,” Egon suggested, his face reddening once more.

Upon hearing that, Peter felt all the blood rush to his crotch. “I am so gonna fuck you now, Spengs.” Pulling Egon into his arms, he kissed him for all he was worth, before freeing up one hand to position himself just right between the physicist’s open legs. While getting his fingers inside hadn’t been too difficult, breaching Egon with something as impressive as Petey Junior took a lot of patience.

Desperate to have Peter inside him, perhaps because the mood slime had temporarily transformed him into a wanton slut, Egon spread his legs wider and lay back on the table, inviting Peter to do as he wanted.

Peter pressed forward, marvelling at the way the mood slime perceived the difficulty, the coating becoming thinner to allow him to ease his way inside. For a moment, Peter paused, allowing Egon to become accustomed to the sensation of being stretched so fully. The physicist was no longer trying to bear down on him, which meant that Egon was having trouble adjusting. “It’ll feel good in a second, Egon. Just relax. You’re doing fine.”

Peter was doing more than fine. He was so aroused he felt like he might lose it at any moment. The funny thing was, the mood slime seemed to have other ideas for it was clamping onto his balls too tightly to allow him to reach orgasm. He wondered what it felt like for Egon to have that stuff oozing inside of him. Judging by the slack look on his face, Egon had no complaints so far.

Feeling like he could move again without causing Egon any discomfort, Peter ground in deeper.

“Ah.. hnnn,” Egon groaned deeply, nearly raising his entire lower body off of the table as he rode out the erotic feeling of having his prostrate stroked.

To keep Egon in place, Peter lay on top of him, before thrusting in a little more aggressively. Being inside Egon felt so blissfully hot that Peter found that he couldn’t think up anymore sarcastic jokes. All that he could concentrate on was Egon. The small cries of pleasure, interspersed with the physicist’s delightfully deep moans, had Peter moaning as well. He was usually so well composed during acts of intimacy, but Egon had done away with that control. The only thing Peter wanted to do was bury himself nice and snug inside Egon, while holding him down for more passionate kisses. He felt Egon thrust up against his belly, so he reached down to pleasure him.

It didn’t take long for Egon to reach completion. And soon after that, Peter was granted permission - thanks to the slime relaxing its hold on him - to do the same. Very carefully, he slipped free of Egon, and tried to regulate his breathing. He didn’t often get winded after an orgasm, but he’d come extra hard after watching Egon do the same. This wasn’t the same as the rest of Peter’s casual flings. This was Egon - his best friend and colleague. Peter had just gotten himself a very generous sampling of something that should have been unattainable for him. And, even after all that, he was already thinking of how he could best appreciate Egon a second time.

“Huh, would you look at that?” Peter remarked. His softening member was now free of the mood slime. He kissed Egon on the lips and grinned. “You’ll always be my little genius, Egon.”

“Peter, I think that something is... wrong.” Although sated and lacking the energy to get off of that table, Egon pulled Peter back down to him. “I think...” He practically turned crimson as he blurted out, “I need you to do it again.”

“Do what again?” Peter flinched when Egon gave him a piercing glare, as if he ought to know what was being referred to. Surely, he couldn’t mean...? Laughing nervously, Peter helped Egon up off of the table and embraced him tightly. “Egon, baby, even if I thought you were up for another round, my dick is not. You’re joking, aren’t you? I did the job right. I felt you come. It’s a miracle you didn’t break the table.”

“I’m serious, Peter. All I can think about is you moving inside me... touching me... It’s unbearable.” Egon grabbed Peter’s hand and forced it between his ass cheeks. “Please, maybe your fingers will be enough.”

As soon as Peter pressed the tip of his finger inside Egon, he realized what the problem was. Not only was the physicist completely filled with a slippery lubricant that buzzed with a light charge when Peter touched it, but it was also pleasingly warm.

“Oh shit,” Peter groaned in display. The mood slime had altered its state once more. It was now using Egon’s body as a conduit for more sexual pleasure. How the hell were they going to get that foreign invader out of Egon before Winston or Ray came home? Peter could definitely go another few rounds with Egon, but not until he recovered from the first one. “Say, Egon, you wouldn’t happen to have anything around here resembling a dildo, would you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think. Comments promote love, and the infestation of slime. :D


End file.
